


a whisper in my bones (keeps me restless, whole)

by tol_sirion



Series: kinktober 2019 [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Animal Sacrifice, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 02:04:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20922356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tol_sirion/pseuds/tol_sirion
Summary: Steve knows not to wander off alone in the woods, has been told not to so many times. He's never been very good at listening. It pays off.Kinktober day 6: Predator/prey





	a whisper in my bones (keeps me restless, whole)

**Author's Note:**

> this one completely got away from me but i'm also pretty happy with it! i guess all my kinktober prompts are gonna be loosely interpreted but honestly billy hargrove should come with a predator warning at all times. the animal sacrifice is just referenced and not shown in detail, but be careful nonetheless.

Steve is careful as he walks the paths of the forest. He can still hear the people celebrating behind him, cheering and laughing, lit up by the bonfires that burn away. He’s never been fond of the celebration, even less so by the animals they throw on the pyres to burn. At least they’re dead before they land in the fires, though Steve doesn’t think the way they slit the goats’ throats beforehand is any better.

He’s voiced his protests before, and every time his mother simply cups his cheeks and looks at him, nails digging into his skin all the way. “Soon it will be your time to perform that duty,” she tells him in that same patient tone. “It is important, Steven. Sinning so you can be cleansed when the goats burn. If you have no sin, they will only take something else.”

He doesn’t know who _they_ are. He’s never been religious, but he has sat through endless services, and never has he heard of anyone coming to cleanse his sins through ritual fire.

It’s easy to slip away. Everyone is drunk, on wine or beer or just the feeling of the celebration, and he needs some peace and quiet. He sticks to the paths, though. His mother has always told him not to veer off them, and the forest has always been odd. Off-putting, beckoning and menacing. It’s one rule he can stick to without feeling like he’s itching out of his skin.

Steve swears he won’t go further than he can see the fires burning, but when he’s torn out of his thoughts by the sound of twigs cracking underfoot, he’s plunged into darkness. He spins around, but he can’t see anything from the way he came. He can’t hear them, either. He turns again, and again, straining his ears, but there’s nothing to see. Nothing to hear.

He hesitates, clenching the fabric of his sweater in his hands. Where did he come from? Is he facing the way back?

More twigs are breaking, suddenly, but not from his feet. He turns quickly, trying to look in the dark. He can’t see anything, but he feels suddenly like he isn’t alone. His neck is prickling, and his heart thuds painfully in his chest.

He swallows, mouth dry, and considers speaking, but. He doesn’t know what is in there with him. Suddenly he doesn’t want to give himself away. He’s trying to keep his breathing under control, but it’s hard.

Something moves. He can barely see it, a darker shape moving against the trees, moving towards him. Something glows in the dark, pinpricks of yellow-red light, like the bonfires.

Steve runs.

He doesn’t know what comes over him, but suddenly he’s terrified. He doesn’t know where he’s going, the path long since gone. He hears the thing move behind him, lighter than his own feet against the forest floor, and he just keeps going. His blood is pounding in his ears and he’s heaving for breath.

He runs for as long as he can manage and then finally falls against a tree, gasping before he covers his own mouth, trying to muffle his breathing. He can’t hear anything anymore, and he looks around wildly. There’s nothing to see.

Did he imagine it? Did his imagination get the better of him? He’s always had a lively fantasy, his mother tells him. Could play for hours with imaginary friends when he was little, though Steve himself always swore that _the boy next door was _real_, mother_.

“Are you scared?”

Steve jumps and almost whimpers. It’s barely a whisper, but it sounds so close, and he whips around again. He can’t see shit in the dark.

“Your fear smells delicious.”

It’s coming from the other side this time, and he turns again, stumbling.

“What– what do you want?” he manages, voice cracking. “Who are you?”

“I just want a taste,” the voice replies. It sounds far off and close at the same time. Steve is going crazy. He has to be. “And a name. Tell me your name.”

Steve swallows. “Will you let me go if I do?” he dares.

There’s a chuckle.

“I’m not holding you captive. You’re free to go anywhere you want.”

Steve keeps looking around, wide eyed, trying to spot anything. Someone must be playing a prank on him. He’s never going to ignore the festivities ever again, if this stops.

“I’m… I’m lost.” he finally says.

“That’s a shame,” the voice sounds amused, “I can show you the way out, if you want. For a price.”

Two pinpricks of yellow-red light. Close to him, just a couple of paces in front of him really. Giving way to what looks like a man. Steve swallows hard.

“What price?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“It depends on what you’re willing to give me. I’m not picky.”

Steve doesn’t know what he’s doing. He should be running. He’s going to get killed.

The man comes closer. His eyes are still that yellow-red light, and it casts enough light and shadow over his features to bare a sharp nose and sharper teeth. Steve stumbles back a couple of steps and then_ runs_.

He doesn’t get far. A weight hits him and he goes slamming into the ground, pinned down. His breath is knocked out of him and he gasps and heaves and sobs.

There’s a hand carding through his hair and a soft shushing sound, and he stills, frozen.

“Don’t be afraid,” the thing tells him gently. “I won’t hurt you. I only want a taste.”

It moves and Steve rolls onto his back, sees the creature kneeling over him. “A taste and a name.”

“What are you?” Steve dares again. He’s shaking, he knows.

The thing cocks its head, and suddenly there’s light from somewhere. Fire, burning in torches in the trees. He can see the creature better this way. Eyes still glowing, teeth still sharp, but he’s got a headful of blond curls and is wearing a shirt and jeans. Looks just like any of the neighborhood boys, really.

“You can call me Billy,” it offers. It’s not an answer, but maybe the real answer is better left unsaid, after all.

Steve debates internally. He’s heard stories about giving creatures your name and how unlucky it is. But he can offer what he goes by, and it won’t be a lie, but it won’t be the truth, either.

“Steve,” he says, still tense. “My name is Steve.”

“Steve.” the creature – Billy, Steve forces himself to think – says, almost rolling the name around in his mouth. “How fortuitous that you would stumble into my forest tonight of all nights, Steve. I’ve been waiting.”

“For me?” Steve asks, staring up at him.

Billy hums, lips curling into a smile. “For someone. But you’re better than most. Not many would be able to run twice. Even if you didn’t get far.”

Billy is still kneeling over him, and now he suddenly sits down across Steve’s hips, pinning him down again. Steve jumps and gasps, and Billy throws his head back and laughs. “I still want a taste of you,” he says, looking down at him again. “You’re no sinner, Steve. You can only offer me so much.”

Steve swallows hard. He’s starting to figure out what Billy wants, but he doesn’t know what it’ll do or what Billy will get out of it. “Why?” he asks, and Billy considers him.

“It’s what this night is all about,” Billy says at last. “Celebration. Release. Interpret it however you will, dear, but the goal is always the same.”

“And… and if I do it?” Steve asks, fingers digging into the dirt beneath him. “You’ll let me go? You’ll show me the way out?”

Billy tilts his head. “You sound as though I’m going to force you,” he says, and shakes his head. “It’s only good if you want it. But you do want it, don’t you? I can smell your desire.”

He leans down, and their lips brush. “I can see your want, Steve,” he says. “I’m willing to give it to you. Only for tonight. Or you can give me a simple taste, and I’ll lead you back to your home, unharmed. There are worse things in this forest than me.”

Steve takes a deep breath and lets it shudder out of him. It does feel good, having Billy in his lap, and his mouth is so close, lips plump and shining. He’s never been with a man, though he’s wanted to, fantasized about it so many times, come all over his fist after dreaming about it. Women are great, but a man…

“It won’t hurt?” he asks, and Billy smiles at him, warm, fond, if Steve interprets him right.

“No.” he says, cupping Steve’s cheek. “It won’t hurt a bit. It’ll feel so good.”

Steve nods slowly, taking a few more breaths before he settles. “Okay.”

Billy takes the permission for what it is and kisses him, claims his mouth and slips his tongue inside. Steve moans, closing his eyes as Billy explores his mouth thoroughly. He doesn’t reach up even if he wants to, not sure if he’s allowed to touch. Billy seems to know exactly what he wants, so it’s easy to let him take the lead. It’s nice, feels good. Billy’s tongue slides against his, drags over his teeth, and then he sits up and looks down.

“You can touch me,” he says, taking one of Steve’s hands and pulling it up out of the dirt, putting it on his thigh. “I want you to touch me, Steve.”

Steve slowly does, puts his other hand up too, slowly stroking up and down Billy’s clothed legs, and Billy smiles and kisses him again, then nips at his jaw, teeth scraping against his skin. Steve gasps a little, grip tightening, and Billy moans softly.

“There you go.” he mutters, one hand splayed over Steve’s chest, slowly rubbing over his nipple. “Touch me.”

Steve groans and tilts his head back, giving Billy better access, hands squeezing his thighs, massaging a little. Billy’s suddenly pulling away from him and Steve makes a noise at the sudden cold that envelopes him. He’s tugged to his feet before he can really see what Billy is doing though, and led over to a tree, shoved down and arranged until he’s sitting with his back to the trunk. Billy slips back into his lap, naked from the waist down suddenly, and Steve stares, blushing.

“That’s better,” Billy says, satisfied, and cups his own cock, giving himself slow strokes. “You can look. You can touch too, if you want.”

Steve bites his lip, looking up at his face to see, but Billy just looks patient. Steve looks back, licking his lips. His mouth is watering a little, watching a bead of precome trail down from the fat head. He slowly wraps his hand around Billy’s cock then, and Billy moves his own away and sighs, rocking a little in Steve’s lap.

“Oh fuck,” Steve breathes. It’s heavy in his hand. Feels a lot like his own, hot and soft and hard all at once. He strokes too, mimicking the pace Billy had before, quickly glancing up again. “Is it good?” he asks, and Billy’s nodding, eyes closed and head tilted back.

“So good.” he grunts. “Spit in your hand.”

Steve hurriedly pulls away to do that before going back to jerking him off, and Billy nods again. “Better. Don’t be scared to make it wet, Steve. Do it like you do it to yourself.”

Steve nods. His face is burning, turned on and a little embarrassed. It’s far too easy to forget what Billy really is when he’s like this, when Steve’s got him in his lap. It’s only when he sees the fangs or Billy looks at him, eyes glowing, that he remembers.

It no longer scares him.

He’s aching in his own pants, dick throbbing. “Do you want me to… just jerk you off?” he asks, after a moment. He wants that, to see Billy come. He also kind of wants to fuck, but he’s kind of scared at the same time. He’s seen and read enough to know it’s not done in a minute, and he’s never been fucked before.

Billy shrugs, though he’s breathing harder, not entirely unaffected.

“Thought maybe you could fuck me,” he says, and Steve chokes on his own spit.

“What?” he manages. Billy grins.

“You heard me. It feels good, Stevie, baby. Better than any cunt you’ve been in.”

Steve is stunned, mute, staring at him with wide eyes. His hand has stilled, and Billy rocks again, making an impatient noise. “You don’t have to,” he bites, and Steve finally fumbles, begins to stroke him again.

“I want to,” he says quickly. “I mean… I would really like to. Is that– I don’t have–”

He doesn’t know how he’s going to say what he means, but Billy seems to understand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, and reaches down, tugging on Steve’s pants. Steve shifts, and they manage to maneuver around until Steve’s pants are down around his thighs, cock smacking against his belly.

“Oh,” Billy breathes, staring. Steve feels self-conscious, moving a hand down to cup himself. “No, no, let me see,” Billy demands, pushing at his hand and taking Steve’s cock in his own, pulling from base to tip. Steve’s breath hitches, hips jerking up. He’s forgetting to jerk Billy off again, but this time Billy doesn’t seem to mind.

Billy’s licking his lips, one sharp fang scraping against his own bottom lip, blood welling. Steve doesn’t know what comes over him, but he surges forward, kissing Billy again. Billy moans as Steve runs his tongue over his lip, tasting blood, and then kissing him deeper, licking into his mouth. Billy clutches at Steve’s hair with his free hand, tugging, and Steve groans, pulling back to let his head drop against Billy’s collarbone, panting.

“Good boy.” Billy practically purrs. “You make me feel so good.”

Steve’s red-faced, embarrassed even if the praise feels good. He didn’t think it would be so easy to please someone who isn’t even human.

And then Billy is just– holding Steve’s dick with one hand, raising up on his knees and sinking down, slow, taking Steve in all the way until he’s seated in his lap, shuddering. Steve is stunned, lost for words, feeling caught up in the heat of it, how_ tight_ it is, of Billy clenching down around him and rocking a little like he can’t help himself. Steve _whimpers_, it feels so fucking good, mouth clamping down around Billy’s collarbone. His skin tastes earthy, but that’s secondhand to how he feels.

“There you go,” Billy is still murmuring, cradling Steve’s head, and then he’s moving, shifting, lifting up and dropping down, setting a steady pace of rocking in Steve’s lap.

“Fuck,” Steve gasps, wrapping his arms around Billy and clutching at his back, nails digging into his skin. Billy just laughs and groans, his cock leaking and smearing sticky trails against Steve’s stomach. Steve can barely keep up, hips thrusting up trying to meet Billy when he rocks down, but then Billy pulls his head back by his hair and grips his chin, nail of his thumb digging into Steve’s bottom lip.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Stay still.”

Steve can only nod, overwhelmed. Billy’s grip gentles, thumb rubbing over his lip. Steve licks at it, tasting blood, and welcomes it into his mouth. Billy hums, pressing down on his tongue, eyes going hazy as he slows his pace, taking Steve in deep.

Billy pulls his hand back, sliding them down over Steve’s chest, flicking his nipples through his sweater and scraping his nails over them. Steve shivers and shakes beneath him, dropping his hands to Billy’s hips and clinging onto him for dear life. His cock twitches inside every time Billy clenches down, every time he pinches Steve’s nipples hard enough to hurt.

“Please,” Steve gasps, head hitting the trunk of the tree behind him with a thud. “Billy–”

“Yes,” Billy says, looking strained at last, his cock throbbing, leaking steadily. “Come inside me, Steve. Let me feel you.”

And Steve is helpless to obey. Can’t, not when Billy picks up speed, rocking in his lap, riding his cock like it’s all he’s ever wanted. Steve stares at him in awe until his eyes are tearing up and he’s coming, gasping and clutching at Billy like he’s his only lifeline, almost sobbing as he spurts, leaking inside Billy and filling him up.

Billy moans, dropping a hand to his own cock and jerking himself hard and fast, stopping and sinking down, feeling the way Steve fills him up. He comes with a curse, streaking over Steve’s belly. It feels like it burns where it hits him, but Steve craves it.

Steve slumps, gasping, looking up at Billy who raises his hand, covered in his own come, and presses his fingers to Steve’s lips.

“Come on,” he says gently. “A taste for a taste.”

Steve opens his mouth and lets Billy push his fingers inside, sucks on them to taste him. It’s odd but it’s _good_, has him salivating for more. Billy seems to sense it, because he grins, drags his hand over Steve’s stomach and holds it up. Steve grabs hold of it and drags his tongue over his palm, between his fingers, and moans.

“Yes,” Billy mutters. “Take it.”

He pulls his hand away, eventually, and Steve makes a noise of protest, feeling bereft.

“You can’t have everything,” Billy says, and shifts off of him with a slick sound. It’s gross, but hot. Steve is soft, cock covered in his own come, and Billy’s swiftly leaking of it, too.

“Why not?” Steve asks, finally finding his voice.

Billy chuckles, getting to his feet.

“How else am I going to get you to come back?” he replies, amused. He holds a hand out, and Steve takes it after a moment’s hesitation, letting Billy haul him to his feet.

Awkwardly, he pulls his pants back up, hissing a little because he’s sensitive. He feels dirty, used in a way, but when he looks at Billy it doesn’t feel so bad. Billy pulls his own clothes back on, and then pulls him in for a kiss. Steve trips a little, falls against him, but Billy holds him steady. It’s good, and Steve doesn’t want it to end.

It does though, like all things do.

“Come on,” Billy says, but holds onto his hand. “I promised to show you the way out of here.”

Steve nods a little, though there’s a lump in his throat so he doesn’t try to talk.

As they walk, he realizes everything around them is a lot more visible. It looks like dawn is approaching, though it’s impossible that they’ve spent that long in the forest. It’s been an hour at most, surely. The trees thin around them, and then they’re at the edge. Steve can see the burnt out pyres, can see his town from where they’re standing, right across the field.

He turns to Billy, who is watching him, eyes shining unnervingly.

“I still don’t know what you are.” Steve finally says, at a loss.

“It’s better that you don’t,” Billy replies, but he smiles, genuine. “Don’t worry, Steve. I’ll find you again.”

“Soon?” Steve asks him, bolder than he feels.

Billy laughs, surging in for another kiss, fangs pressed to his lip. “Maybe.” he teases and moves away, back into the forest. Steve looks after him until his eyes are straining and he has to blink. When he looks again, Billy is gone.

Steve’s mother is frantic when he enters their home, holding him by the shoulders and demanding to know where he’s been, what has happened to him. “I got lost,” Steve says. “I’m fine. I slept in the field.”

She doesn’t believe him, he can tell, but she lets him go with a kiss to his forehead and a promise he’ll never wander off on his own again. He should feel guilty for lying to her, but he doesn’t. When he falls into bed that night, he dreams of yellow-red fires and eyes and a voice softly speaking his name, beckoning.


End file.
